


Teach Me to Love with a Smile on my Lips

by second_hand_heaven



Category: DCU
Genre: (clark is a buffoon), F/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Sex, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Multi, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Superwonderbat, Threesome - F/M/M, Tickling, Vaginal Sex, ridiculous nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 22:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14703891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_hand_heaven/pseuds/second_hand_heaven
Summary: Bruce never really had a healthy relationship with sex. It was a tool to get what he wanted, a way to dull the pain. But with Clark and Diana, maybe it could be fun.





	Teach Me to Love with a Smile on my Lips

**Author's Note:**

> After 2 months, I've finally got some more superwonderbat fic for you all!
> 
> Laughing during sex is important and needs to be shown more. This is part of what I'm calling the “everything is good and nothing hurts” universe, in which the Trinity are together and Bruce is learning to love and be loved in a healthy, supportive way.

 

“Could you be serious for one second?” Bruce huffs, lifting his mouth from Diana's folds. He's kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, between Clark’s spread legs. His knees ache, but he ignores the pain. The sight before him is more than worth it. On the edge of the bed, Clark sits with Diana in his lap where she’s fucking down onto Clark’s cock. 

“I can't help it,” Diana says, legs squirming, “your beard keeps tickling me.” 

He could probably do with a shave, the shadow on his chin well past five o’clock. He’d planned on doing it when he got home from work, but Clark and Diana had been waiting for him, and well, they’re very distracting. Especially while naked and spread out in his bed.

Clark winds a hand into Bruce's hair. “Feels so good. God, you're amazing.” It’s not just Diana who finds pleasure in Bruce’s stubble. The way she moves in Clark’s lap brings the Kryptonian closer and closer to orgasm. Clark rocks upward into her, his thrusts shallow and languid. “Do that again, B.”

Another roll of his eyes, but he complies. He rubs his cheek against Diana's inner thigh, feeling more than watching her squirm in Clark’s lap. The hand in his hair guides his movements, controlling him with a steel fist. Bruce grits his teeth, jerking his head in the opposite direction.  _ He  _ is in control, not Clark, not Diana, not anyone. Even on his knees, Bruce Wayne is in control. Supposedly. That hand in his hair is proving to be an opponent.  

At a rather harsh tug to his scalp, Bruce grumbles, “Get your hand out of my hair or I’ll bite your damn balls.” Not that he could actually hurt Clark like that, the stupid alien solar battery that he is, but the threat is still there. Or supposed threat. 

Clark just laughs him off, still thrusting up into Diana. “You need to relax. Lighten up a little, Brucie. Brucie goosie.” He giggles at that, a goofy smile spread across his face. But still, he complies and lets go of Bruce’s hair and instead grasps Diana’s hip.

Bruce rolls his eyes at the ridiculous nickname, licking up from the base of Clark's cock to where it entered Diana. He grins at the soft moan he elicits from Clark. Control tastes almost as good as his lovers.

He returns his focus to Diana’s clit. “Come for us, Princess,” he murmurs against her skin. It only takes moments before she does, gushing over his face and tongue. Clark fucks her through it, stilling only as his own orgasm fades. His forehead rests against her shoulder, his hair tickling her collar bone. It's getting long, beginning to curl at the nape of his neck. How does Clark cut his hair? Is it as strong and his skin? Bruce pictures a comically large pair of scissors fashioned from Kryptonite, glowing green in Clark's hand. Maybe not. Or maybe he uses his heat vision, in the same way he he shaves his face. 

He’s distracted from his thoughts by vision before him, the drip of Diana’s juices as Clark pulls out. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, tilting his head to catch the trail of moisture on his tongue. He leans upwards, tracing the droplets back to the source.

“You’re too good to me,” Diana moans, her head falling back against Clark’s shoulder. Bruce hums his agreement and continues to lap at her. He brings her to another orgasm. Gently easing off his ministrations, he presses open mouth kisses to her inner thighs. Her legs twitch beneath his lips.

Clark helps her off his lap, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, before turning his attention to Bruce. Clark lifts him effortlessly onto the bed, laying him back against the pillows. Beside him, Diana stretches out across the decadent sheets like a cat in a column of afternoon sunlight. Post-coital bliss is a good look on her, but honestly, anything looks good on her. 

She reaches for him, her hand skimming lightly across the tense muscles of his abdomen. He jumps, gasping, and twists out of her reach. 

“Bruce?”

“‘M fine,” he says, trying to pull up the sheets to cover his body. Clark’s weight keeps them firmly in place at the end of the bed. He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. 

Diana grins slyly at him, “don’t tell me you’re ticklish, Bruce?”  

He feels a blush spread across his cheeks. “I’m not,” he says, and even he is not convinced. Clark and Diana converge on him. “Don’t you dare,” he warns, but of course, they do dare. Under their fingers he's left thrashing against the sheets, and not in the way they usually manage it. He can’t fight the laughter bubbling within his chest. They dodge his flailing limbs like it’s a training exercise, not sex. Control slips with every touch, and he can’t fight it. 

“Enough, enough!” he says, laughter skirting his words. “You're the worst. I'm never sleeping with you two ever again.” But he feels lighter than before, the weight of control sliding from his back. He can't remember the last time he laughed like that in the bedroom. It was… nice. A million times  _ nicer _ than nice, but his brain is a little foggy with the swirling sensation of laughter, sex, and  _ happiness?  _ It must be. 

“Oh Bruce,” Diana pouts, propping herself up on her elbows, “don't be like that.”

“You love us,” Clark says, offhandedly, seemingly unaware of the weight of his words.

Bruce doesn’t argue. Of course he loves them; how could he not? But he haven't actually said it yet. None of them have. He should. He wants to. God, he wants to. Is it too soon? He'll tell them tomorrow, maybe. They should do dinner before he goes on patrol, somewhere nice. Or maybe just dinner at the Manor, a quiet evening for the three of them. Some music, some wine (but not for himself) and the words “I love you”. 

Perfect. 

But Bruce doesn't say any of it. Instead, he grunts out something unintelligible, something grumpy-sounding that makes Clark pout. 

“Let me make it up to you,” Clark says, moving down Bruce's body. An excellent idea. Bruce spreads his legs to accommodate Clark's broad shoulders. Diana lies beside him, her head level with his chest. Her hand slides up and down Clark’s back, tracing across the bunching muscles. 

Clark’s hand, impossibly soft, wraps around Bruce’s cock. His light strokes tease more than anything, offering pleasure but no relief. “Is this you making up for being a brat?” Bruce asks, trying to keep the breathlessness from his voice, “you’ll have to do more than that.”

“Oh I’m sure he can do better than that,” Diana purrs, a hand at the back of Clark’s neck pushing him downward. Down on Bruce’s straining cock. 

Clark’s eyes and lips close as he takes the head of Bruce’s cock in his mouth, as if savouring the moment. Bruce’s head falls back against the pillows, half moaning Clark’s name. He tries to keep his hips still, but the sight of his cock disappearing past Clark’s pink lips has him canting upwards. Clark's mouth on him, that wet heat, it’s magnificent. At least with his mouth occupied, Clark can't make up any more ridiculous nicknames. Brucie Goosie. Bruce can't stifle a chuckle. Clark rolls Bruce's balls in his free hand, cutting off his laugh with a moan. 

“Diana,” Bruce says, stretching his arm out vaguely in Diana's direction, “come here, Princess.”

Diana moves closer, leaning across Bruce's body. Looming over him, she bends down for a kiss, her hair cascading around her face and spilling down onto the pillow beneath Bruce's head. 

Clark’s hand moves from his balls, tracing toward his hole. He moans into the kiss, opening himself to Diana's tongue. He winds a hand into Clark's hair, not pulling, just a gentle presence against Clark's scalp. Bruce relaxes, letting Clark keep the pace. He doesn’t have to be in control, not right now. Instead he focuses on the sensation.

Diana breaks the kiss, moving to kiss down his jaw, his chin, his throat. Her lips no longer silence each little sound he makes. If he’s lucky, she’ll leave a mark there, high enough for anyone to see it above his collar. He wants it, desperately, turning his head and baring his throat even more to her. Her hands slide up his chest to cup his pecs and he arches, gasping, into her touch. 

“So sensitive,” she murmurs approvingly against his collarbone. She bits down on the flesh there, working the skin and sinew between her teeth. 

“Yes,” he hisses, not caring how desperate his voice sounds. He’s engulfed by his lovers, passive to the pleasure they want to give. He doesn’t have to be in control, he doesn’t have to give and not take in return. 

She licks across the hardened nub, before blowing coolly over it. Bruce shivers, rocking upward into the overwhelming sensations. He reaches orgasm softly, spilling into Clark's mouth with a sigh. 

Clark pulls off his softening cock, eyes flicking up to Bruce's as he licks his lips. Bruce barely supresses a groan at the sight. These two will be the death of him, and they know it. Diana kisses his cheek. “Enjoy yourself, Bruce?”

As if he could feel anything but joy right now. He nods a fraction, words vacant from his mind. Clark moves up his body, kissing Bruce on the lips. He can taste himself in the kiss. He wrinkles his nose, and Clark kisses it too. Bruce can't help but laugh at that. 

Warm, loved, and relaxed, he lets himself be tucked under the covers by Diana. Clark heads into the bathroom, but returns in an instant. He slides beneath the sheets, pulling Bruce's body toward him. Diana presses herself against Bruce's back, surrounding him. He curls into Clark’s chest, a small smile on his lips.

“I love you,” Bruce says, before drifting off to sleep. 

 

_ FIN _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this, my lovelies. Kudos and comments are always welcome.
> 
> If you want to come chat with me about the trinity, or antyhing else, come find me at my [main tumblr](http://second-hand-heaven.tumblr.com) or my [nsfw tumblr](http://second-hand-hell.tumblr.com)
> 
> -Nova xx


End file.
